Lucy let go and backed off, moving to Bitch’s side.

“They’re beautiful,” Siberian whispered, looking at the dogs.

In their own twisted way, sure.

Bitch nodded mutely in response.

Siberian approached her, walking with a great deal of care.  There was grace in her movement, and she walked on her tiptoes, each foot carefully placed a measured distance in front of the other.  Her eyes shone through the curtain of her white and black hair.

Very catlike in a multitude of ways.

Bitch felt a moment’s trepidation.

“What…” She regretted opening her mouth the instant she did, but it was already too late.  “do you want?”

…

I accidentally scrolled a little too far while copying this, so I know the answer is a single short word, but I was already going to guess something along the lines of “you”.

In part because I was half expecting part of the reason Rachel regretted opening her mouth to end up being that Siberian kissed her, before I finished reading what she was saying.

“You.”

“I don’t understand,” she tried to inject more confidence into her answer.

Yep. It seems we have a smitten kitten, and/or a recruitment attempt.

And you know what? I could almost see this ship working out.

“Beautiful,” she whispered.  She pressed her lips against Lucy’s nose in a kiss, as if uncaring that the dog had seized her arm between jaws that could crush a motorcycle.

Aww.

I know I’m repeating myself, but it really does seem like Rachel found someone to relate to.

Except she doesn’t know quite how brutal Siberian can be.

Lucy snorted in response.

Hehe.

Then she looked at Bitch.  This time, she made eye contact, and despite her whisper, there was no-nonsense in her tone.  “Your dog lets go of me now, or she gets hurt.”

Ah, yeah, there we go.

The confidence in the tone, the authority, the fact that the woman’s eyes didn’t waver in the slightest, they made it abundantly clear to Bitch that the woman was telling the truth.  She was certain enough about it that it was worth weakening her position here.  “Lucy, off.  Come.”

Good call.

Talking, always talking.  “Not interested.  Go.”

I get the sense that talking isn’t exactly Siberian’s favorite activity either, at least.

Siberian looked down at the man, who was still writhing and twitching, making small noises of pain.

“Go!”  She shouted.  The woman didn’t budge.  Bitch glanced at her dogs to see who was the biggest, the least injured.  Lucy.  “Lucy!  Attack!”

…shit.

Time to see what Siberian can do, I guess. And also maybe say goodbye to Lucy.

Lucy pounced on Siberian.  Bitch saw Siberian stretch out her arm, saw Lucy’s jaws clamp down on the limb.

There was no reaction.  Lucy tugged, the full force of her body behind the movement, and the woman didn’t move a hair.

Hah, nice!

I guess she has the power to freeze in place? Is that all, though? I don’t really see that connecting with the tiger theme, for that matter.

With great care, Siberian stood.  She looked at Lucy, her bright eyes roving over the dog’s face and the length of the dog’s body.

Ah, okay, not quite frozen, but not movable either.

It made her feel better, strangely.

Slightly calmer, her words measured, she called out, “I’m going to ask you again.  Who the fuck are you?”

I’m sorry, I think she would’ve answered by now if she could.

“Siberian,” the woman spoke, her voice barely above a whisper.  Barely audible.

…oh hey. She could. Never mind!

So does she normally not speak by choice, or does she have trouble actually putting the words together, with spoken human language being difficult for her in similar ways to how human body language and social subtleties are difficult for Rachel?

“What the hell are you doing here?  This is my territory.”

“I’ll leave soon.  I just wanted to talk.”  Again, the whisper.

Hm.

I guess she was watching the whole situation with Rachel, the now blind and broken-legged man and the other residents of the building he was shooting from. Witnessing Rachel’s actions might’ve caused her to recognize something of herself.

…

Y’know, the Slaughterhouse Nine are allegedly down a member. Maybe she’s recruiting.

“Answer me,” Bitch ordered.

The woman reached over and pressed her index and middle fingers to the man’s eyes.  Pressing down, she penetrated the orbs, sliding her fingers down until they were two knuckles deep.

Yeahhh. This guy’s definitely gonna need Panacea, and maybe a cleric with a 500 gp diamond, by the time Siberian is done playing with her food.

“Hey!  Fuck off!”

Seriously, Rachel, you don’t know it (and I don’t blame you) but you really don’t want to antagonize this gal. Especially if she decides to bring her friends.

The woman removed the fingers.  Vitreous fluids and blood flowed from the open wounds in the man’s eye sockets.

Hm. Maybe she’d get along with Taylor too, now that I think about it… :j

The woman turned towards her.  She didn’t meet Bitch’s eyes, instead looking down at Bitch’s feet.  It struck Bitch that the woman was making herself small, was being inoffensive.

Interesting. She does seem to be making attempts to be friendly with Rachel.

And while dogs and cats do have their differences as far as body language goes, which is supposedly the usual cause of the classic “dog chasing cat” scenario, that’s probably still easier for Rachel to understand and relate to than human body language.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Supposedly, Siberian doesn’t talk, so I doubt you’ll get an answer to that from the tiger’s mouth.

I wonder if setting up this was part of why Bitch was absent from Coil’s exposition about the Fellowship of the Meat.

The woman didn’t reply.  She crouched down beside the man, then shifted her position so she was sitting sideways, her legs stretched out beside her.

Paint me like one of your French tigers…

Her fingertips traced the man’s injuries, almost lovingly.

Because of course she appreciates that.

When the woman looked up at Bitch, her eyes were yellow and bright, reflecting the ambient light like the eyes of a dog or cat might.

…

So we’ve got hellhounds and a tiger. Big dogs and big cats.

I don’t know who would win. Bitch does have the advantage of numbers, at least.

But remember what I said when the hellhounds were first introduced and described as lizard tigers?

You should always bet on the tiger.

She smiled, and there wasn’t a trace of tension in her body, as though she’d just woken up in a safe place.

I suppose these two might end up getting along, actually. Maybe even relate to each other.

Man, imagine Bitch coming back to the Undersiders and telling them that she made a friend in white and black.

She stalked forward, her dogs joining her to form a loose circle around the woman.  The crazy bitch was naked from head to toe, and her skin and hair were painted in alternating stripes of white and black, like a zebra… no.

Ahh.

Well, I was wrong about which one.

Hiya, Siberian, what’s up?

Paint would have washed off, and dye wouldn’t be so crisp around the edges.  It was a natural coloring.

Huh, neat.

I wonder if Siberian is a case 53. On the other hand, we know that minor physical changes can happen without that being the case, such as with Paige’s hair.